


for whom the bell tolls

by fuscience



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not apparent, with the colorful dresses and bright lipstick, but Felicity has some issues that run a lot deeper than her years with Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for whom the bell tolls

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not a particular fan of the apparent Ivo connection to Felicity, but I went with it because I like writing canon and that looks like what the writers are giving?? I also really don't like Felicity's supposedly individual story line revolving around Oliver's island experience, so I tried to write this in a way that didn't really focus on him.
> 
> This particular gem was written right after the finale of Teen Wolf so I was not in a very happy place - but this isn't really that dark or scary don't worry. It's just not domestic fluff.
> 
> Also, this was written a long time ago and only now edited because I want to get it off my phone and I also have not seen the finale/last three episodes so, while I might throw references to it in I really have no idea exactly what happened (there was a fake I love you WTF and Lyla's a baby momma etc.).

Felicity was twelve years old when her father got in a car and left, making promises, none of which have ever come to fruition. Felicity's fine though, she's smart enough to recognize a lost cause.

 

(She may sit by the mailbox every birthday waiting for a card that never comes, _but that's okay.)_

 

Felicity is 17, staring at an acceptance letter to MIT and sitting at a table playing connect four. With her mother.

 

When the game is over, (her mother wins, red by diagonal, and claps her hands together in delight), Felicity slides the letter across the table, bright gold university seal and the Smoak's home address rising off the paper.

 

"I'm leaving." Her heart stills and she waits for the yelling, the anger that will surface as it has a thousand times when college and Felicity's inevitable departure have been mentioned. It is inevitable, but any guilt she feels is belayed by the need to run as far away from her past as possible.

 

("The rat bastard leaves on some self-sacrificing journey without a single thought to the people who stay. You're going to leave too, just like him. Too much like him.")

 

It doesn't come.

 

"That's nice, dear. Ready for another game?" Felicity is speaking to a stranger and it's the first time she acknowledges that the mother she knew is gone. Blue eyes, identical to hers, become wet and tears trickle down the cavernous lines of the older face, ravaged by sadness and disease.

 

The lump in Felicity's throat won't disappear and she hates that, like always, she'll come out of this conversation feeling worse than her mother.

 

"Why are you crying?" She pauses and swallows, "Mom?

 

"I don't know." A panicked note to her voice and Felicity gets up, coming over to kneel and wrap her arms around the aged woman, trying to comfort. "I don't know. I don't know." She repeats, lost in a broken mind.

 

Felicity tries to hold her mother together even when she knows she's the one tearing her apart.

 

The next day Felicity leaves because it's the right thing to do and she'll never get anywhere in life at the bedside of an ailing woman who can’t even remember her own daughter. She has nightmares of her father's face staring back at her from a mirror and those confused, tear-stained words echo in Felicity's sleep for months after.

 

_Too much like him. Always leaving._

This is the first lesson that Felicity learns on her own.  Everyone leaves.

 

Seven years later Oliver Queen walks into Felicity's cubicle with a bullet ridden laptop. Seven years later the vigilante shows up, bleeding out in the back seat of her car and fucking up any claims to normalcy Felicity had managed to gain in the past five years. And for the next three years, a tiny part of Felicity Smoak hates Oliver Queen for coming into her office, breaking into her car, and digging out a space in her heart (a much larger part falls in love). He makes her like him, makes her care, and then forces her to patch up the gashes and wounds, trace the scars with her eyes, and bring him back from the dead far too many times.

 

(Felicity cries herself to sleep, alone in bed, to nightmares of earthquakes and dead bodies - sometimes it's her, other times its everyone she's ever cared about. Sometimes she thinks she’ll go insane, but Felicity knows what crazy looks likes and so far, she hasn’t seen it in herself.)

 

It's wintertime when she sees her father again. His blood stains the snow and her hands and Felicity is glad that he died. If this makes her a horrible person than she's okay with that. Its been a while, but she's suspected her moral compass has edged south for sometime now. He'd been on the island with Oliver - her father, that is - and that makes her a little sick on the inside. Everything comes back to Oliver and his scars, Felicity can't even grieve about her own picked off scabs without Oliver's name showing up in every other thought.

 

For once, she wants this sadness to be only hers.

 

There's a four inch gash on Felicity's shoulder, bruises in the shape of fingers around her wrist, and her left side is aching and numb.  These are the least of the marks Anthony Ivo has left on his daughter. Time will heal the pain and Felicity can stitch up the cut so it will be as if they were never there. He was never here. Her knees dig into the gravel and tears slip out, tracking clean paths down her cheeks between the dirt. A surge of hate washes over Felicity and she wants to beat her fists into his chest and claw at his pale, dead skin. Ivo's body lies still and cold though, meters away from her, yet closer than he's been in over a decade.

 

_"I left for her! I left for us! What I've done, its an achievement, a miracle"_

 

Felicity could easily have lived out her days without ever seeing Anthony Ivo ever again, just as her twelve year old self lived making her own lunches, walking to school alone, and dealing with the fact no one wants to sit next to the quiet girl with second hand everything. Oliver makes a move towards her, pulling off the hood and mask so she can see his swollen, bloodshot eyes and bleeding, split lip. His breath comes out in stilted gasps, clouds of moisture in the air around him. He holds his side, like his ribs are broken, and she watches him painfully stagger towards her.

 

"Felicity." She's always loved the way he says her name, like survival. It's all broken into syllables and stretched out, with a little sigh of relief at the end like Oliver's always so happy to see her.

 

She mutters curses under her breath, standing up on her own as he continues to limp forward. A wave of exhaustion washes over her and Felicity is just too tired to comfort him at the moment. _Too tired to even apologize_ for being unable to comfort him. Everyone has an emotional capacity, a threshold to hit and Felicity has run straight through hers - she can't handle her own issues right now, let alone anyone else's.

 

_"Why him?! Blood, Felicity! I'm family, it's everything. You should be at my side. I'm going to make everything okay - don't you see, baby girl?."_

 

Her leg wobbles and almost gives out until Roy comes up on her side, slinging a not-broken-arm-thank-god over his shoulder. Diggle moves forward to steady Oliver and Sara takes several slow steps towards the group, her left leg dragging slightly behind her. There's a car parked nearby that John manages to hotwire and they clamber in, leaving the massacre behind as another unexplained incident for the SCPD.  Roy sits between her and Oliver, uncomfortably bouncing his foot up and down. Felicity stares at her red hands, picking at the chipped and broken nails - the one on her right index finger is hanging by a thread and she gives an angry yank, tearing it from it's bed to watch a thin line of fresh red blood well up around the broken skin. Her finger throbs and aches, but it merely runs into the other pains that spread through the rest of her body. Oliver watches her break and has absolutely no idea where to begin putting her back together.

 

* * *

 

 

They had argued. For days, Felicity had been hidden away, out of her father's reach, protected and safe until she couldn't stand it anymore, until Detective Lance ended up in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head and been put into a medically induced coma. No one could deny her right to be involved at that point, not even Oliver. This, of course, did not stop him from taking off in the middle of the night to confront Ivo alone, attempting a preemptive strike before the mad scientist could make good on his threat to take Felicity away.  He left her behind and she doesn’t know how she'll ever convey to him how much it hurt. Sara was the one who figured out what he was doing and alerted the team and they had arrived in time to watch her father kick Oliver in the calf, forcing him to his knees.

 

Ivo stands there yelling and talking as if days had gone by in his absence instead of decades, as if Felicity hadn't already gone through all the stages of grief at her father's abandonment.

 

"Make a choice, baby girl. You were always so intellectual, my little scientist, there's only one decision to make." The gun swivels back and forth between Oliver's head and her father's smooth temple. "Make a choice." Ivo says, running his favorite experiment, playing his favorite game, while not realizing that, to her, one of them already died a long time ago. Family will always be number one to him and he'll never understand that Felicity doesn't want his family because she has a new one.

 

Felicity slides neatly in front of Oliver, looking directly into her father's eyes, watching the gleeful madness fade to a stunned rage. She can hear Oliver behind her pleading and asking her to, "Go. Felicity, stop! Just go!"

 

Oliver’s writhing on the ground trying to find purchase under his legs, watching Felicity stare down the barrel of a gun and his heart is breaking at the sight of her so near death. He doesn't realize this is a confrontation that was always going to occur, it was always her fight. In every timeline, every universe, Felicity will stand in front of her father, shoulders steeled in defiance.

 

In some of these world she dies:

 

( _His fists falls a little too hard that day, punishing the child, and her head hits the corner of the cabinet just right._

_Her father wants her to follow his footsteps, take over his research on this god forsaken boat, but she's sixteen and still understands compassion, standing between him and a new victim - he calls them subjects. It's the last thing she'll ever do._

_It’s not that Ivo doesn’t love his daughter, he just loves his work more. Felicity lays there, bleeding out of her eyes - another unsuccessful experiment._ )

 

But in most of them she lives.

 

"No." Felicity’s voice cracks with rage. An animalistic snarl, vicious and ripping, comes from her father as he howls in anger, before reaching to push her out of the way. It wasn't actually a choice - it never is with Anthony, always his way or no way. She springs forward and grabs his hand, there's a roar in her ear as adrenaline pumps into her body, rushing through her bloodstream until her vision is a mere pinhole - focused on the fight. Felicity really should've been paying more attention to Digg's self-defense lessons, but this time she's lucky. A shot goes off and the man haunted her flops to the ground, limbs twitching and eyes glossy with death. His head, filled with the knowledge to doom a hundred million people, bleeds red onto the concrete. She lies there for a moment with her father’s dead body draped over her like a blanket and thinks:

 

It's really anticlimactic, all things considered. Over ten years of bottled up anger and daddy issues gone in one night. She'll never get to say all the words she'd held inside since he'd left, tear open every scar he'd caused and let the heat of her rage pour over him like liquid hate. Felicity is a little bit angry, a little bit sad, but mostly bitter - wondering whether anything will ever grow in the graveyard where she's planted her trust in people.

 

Oliver crawls over to the tangled pile of limbs that is Felicity and her dead father and she can hear his whispered prayers, "Please god, not her. Never her. Don't take her." Felicity is very good at reading between the lines, understanding the unsaid.

 

 _"I love you I love you I love you."_ Oliver says it a thousand different ways in those few minutes he can't seem to find her pulse, in those moments she's as dead to him as every other ghost that haunts his nightmares.

 

* * *

 

 

They are tired and no one really argues with Felicity when she wants to go home immediately after everyone gets patched up. Diggle has two black eyes and several broken ribs and Sara still can't walk without her leg scuffing the floor, unable to completely lift it. Roy's the only functional one of them and he drove off with their stolen car "I'll leave it with a friend." he said - a friend with an illegal chop shop is the underlying message, but they leave it alone. Felicity's not okay, but none of them are. A two am taxi takes her home.

 

When she manages to stumble her way up two flights of stairs and past the questioning eyes of Cecil the doorman, Felicity closes the door and lets her back slide down the wood, tucking her head into scrunched up knees before letting ugly sobs rip through her body.

 

It's five days She spends curled up in her apartment, alternating between crying uncontrollably and staring at her laptop, unable to think of a single thing she wants to do. The time is cathartic, if not altogether relaxing.

 

On day three there's a knock that Felicity ignores. Hours later, when she goes to collect the takeout delivered to the apartment lobby, she finds a small, red cooler and a note.

 

_There's a pint of mint chocolate chip inside and the writing reads_

_whenever you're ready, no matter when, we'll be here_

_-digg_

She loves John. The guy who seems to always know the right thing to say, even if its nothing at all. She wonders why he couldn't be The One. Her hands smooth the wrinkled paper and she sighs, grabs a spoon, and turns on her laptop.

 

When John knocks on her door the next day Felicity opens it.  He looks surprised, broad shoulders awkwardly big in her small doorway and Felicity buries herself into his arms. He leads her into the living room, holding her gently by the elbow, and they sit on the couch in a companionable silence until Felicity has to open her mouth.

 

"Why are - " She stops because that's not really what she wants to ask and sighs, defeated, "How is he?"

 

A hand falls on hers, warm and friendly. "He's holed up in his house.  We all took a break. It was necessary between... everything ."

 

It's true. Between Slade and Ivo and every other creep deciding to crawl out of the woodwork in the past couple of months the team is tired. Emotionally and physically. Sara is pulling herself back together, piece by piece with the rest of her family, dealing with the fallout of her return and Nyssa’s near constant shadowy presence. Roy has been heartbroken since Thea left - blaming himself for not telling her, for not being there.. John stares blankly at the wall and Felicity knows he's thinking of the Suicide Squad and Lyla,  Amanda Waller and Carly. Most of all though she sees the same old pain of failure and regret coming to the surface in his eyes and knows he's remembering the little brother he couldn't protect.

 

They don't really talk much, quiet, innocuous questions here and there, and Felicity turns on the television for background noise. It's the most normal she's felt in days.

 

When Diggle leaves she hugs him again and thanks him, loves him all the more for the kindness he always shows. Felicity ponders for a second why she couldn't fall for him, the guy who still seemed functional compared to Oliver, but knows it isn’t really a fair comparison. John has his own demons and fights them differently than Oliver. After he leaves, she sheds off the days old pajamas and climbs into the shower, scrubbing until her skin is red. It almost feels like the waters washing everything away and when Felicity finally steps out of the shower she's exhausted, but clean. The bed stares at her, still made because she hadn’t really slept since Ivo’s body had laid still over hers.

 

Felicity takes one more day to sort through her feelings. There are cycles  of anger, depression, a moment she spends existentially questioning the purpose of her life, and, surprisingly, hidden behind the tidal wave of other emotions, a deeply repressed grief. There had always been a seed of hope in her, it was  in Felicity's nature to believe in the greener grass, the glass half full, and the father who would come home. That dream was gone now and she would had to live with it.

 

It's raining when Felicity goes to his mansion, and politely asks the staff not to announce her arrival. They acquiesce, no one particularly wishing to knock on Oliver Queen's door at the moment. She walks through the halls quietly, squeaks from tiny ballet flats the only thing betraying her presence. Portraits lines the walls, as well as the occasional landscape piece and oddly shaped modern statue. He's hidden in the east wing and Felicity has obviously spent far too much time in the Queen's home based on how familiar she is with it's twists and turns.

 

Oliver opens the door before Felicity even knocks and when he stares at her she suddenly becomes self-conscious of her drowned-rat appearance. Blonde hair sticks to the side of her face and the front of her jacket and a sheen of rain still wets her bare skin.

 

"I- I, " Felicity  stutters and stops, turning away and noticing the trail of wet footprints she has left behind. There's  a sudden urge to go apologize to whomever will have to clean it up, but resists. Her teeth tear at her bottom lip, moving back and forth urgently. Swallowing and scrunching her lips together she takes a breath for courage before facing him again and asking the only question that matters. "Do you love me?"

 

Oliver looks dead tired with the biggest bags under his eyes. Cuts and bruises still scatter the patches of visible skin peeking out under sleeves and above necklines. She would love to give him time to rest, to collect himself from this tragedy, but for once Felicity wants to be selfish. So, she reaches up and traces a long mark that cuts down his forehead, into his eye brow. Oliver leans into her touch and she asks again, "Do you love me?" It's a question she's asked herself a thousand times, and, for once, she already knows the answer.

 

Her hand cups his cheek so that his lips kiss her palm when he mutters, "Yes."

 

"Will you leave me behind again?"

 

He looks at her pleadingly, like he wants a loophole so bad that he would get on his knees and beg, but she has to know that Oliver won’t sacrifice what’s important to her for his desire to keep her safe. It's a testament to their lifestyle that he struggles more to make this promise than say 'I love you'.

 

"I have had too many people walk out on me - I've left too many people behind. I can't - " Felicity pauses to find the words to tell him that she doesn’t know what to do if she loses the team and him. "I don't know if I can do this alone. I need to know Oliver."

 

His lips thin out and his voice is still so soft and sad he almost breaks her heart again, "Not unless you wanted me to. Not anymore." He says because Oliver may want her safe but she needs to be _unsafe_ with him and everyone else.

 

Felicity leans up then, slowly and then, all at once, to press her lips to his, before pushing them both back into his room.

 

It's sweet, desperate sex. The lightest of touches and the heaviest of emotions. She's not sure there's ever a moment where he's not touching her and it's hard to breathe when they're so close, but it still feels better than when they were alone. He tries to slow her down, but Felicity will have none of it - struggling with his belt and ripping away the buttons of his shirt. He gives in halfway and just concentrates on keeping his hands on her, never letting go.

 

* * *

 

When they're done and Felicity is draped across Oliver's chest, warm and safe in his embrace, tears begin to slip down her cheeks.

 

"Why are you crying?" He asks, clearly distressed. It's not the greatest indication in the world to tell someone you love them, and then have sex that leaves said person in tears. Large, calloused hands come up to frame her face and his thumbs attempt to catch the droplets before they collect at the point of her chin. She can feel the archery scars on the pads of his fingers outlining the wet tracks on her skin.

 

Felicity looks at him and thinks of all she's lost and gained in the last week.

 

"I don't know." She answers as Oliver leans forward, lips brushing the lines of her face, lapping up the salty tears. He smells like sweat and sex, and her and him, and home and forever. Felicity remembers her mother, mind gone, crying for a husband who disappeared and a daughter who moved on.

 

"I don't know." She repeats firmly, thinking that maybe that's okay. "I don't know."

 

Oliver and her have always worked better together, as partners. They fill the gaps in each other and he's right here now - so close she can bury her questions in him and maybe answers will bloom someday.

 

He murmurs almost-I-love-yous. against her skin, lips tracing her collarbone, and Felicity whispers, "I think they're happy tears."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting all of my less loved works right now, so that I can upload the stuff I LIKE.


End file.
